


Honeymoon series

by justinlovesart



Category: QAF (US) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-07
Updated: 2010-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:32:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justinlovesart/pseuds/justinlovesart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Rage/JT series that picks up from their wedding in S5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honeymoon series

**Honeymoon**

The tuxedo is crumpled somewhere in The Mansion, many rooms ago, as white as when he wore it in the morning. So is the silk scarf that lies next to it.

It's late into their wedding night, nearly dawn. Naked and exhausted on their hero-sized bed, JT wonders if he'll dream of golden gardenias. He lets himself sink more deeply into Rage's body and runs his hands up and down the arms that only a few hours before were carrying him across the ocean, all the way to China.

Rage didn't rush their flight and hovered above the waves to watch the sperm whales come up for air.

They fucked mid-air over Japan, pants pushed down just enough to let Rage slide in and out of his ass, in time with the strokes to his cock: "Let's see how far you can shoot."

JT laughed and hit the top of the Tokyo Tower, easily and with precision.

Along the banks of the Yang-Tze they looked for a patch of color that matched the glimmer of their rings, suddenly aware that neither of them had the vaguest idea what gardenias looked like.

It was the scent that told them they were close, and they descended slowly on the dirty yellow petals, like bees.

"Jesus. They stink." But they both held the flowers close to their faces and breathed in for a while.

Now, JT's eyelids are heavy with sleep and memories that are already turning into dreams (they kept flying West all the way home, because Rage wanted a repeat of the Tokyo performance at the Eiffel Tower).

But first, he hears Rage's whisper: "I didn't really need to smell them. Did you?"

"No, I didn't." He yawns and makes himself more comfortable between Rage's legs. "But I enjoyed the flight."

 

**Anniversary**

It's already dusk when JT lights the last candle.

He wonders how the Mansion will look from the sky, aglow with hundreds of fluttering flames: he'll ask Rage to fly them up and show him, later.

Hopefully, Gayopolis won't need saving for one night, he thinks as he arranges the red grapes on a plate. Just in time: the swooshing sound of his superhero cutting through the winter air is followed by the soft thud of his landing on the marble doorsteps.

All superpowers must be left at the door.

JT surveys the scene: the burning logs, the breathing wine, the finger food, the soft rug on the floor where Rage first proposed then made love to him then fucked him all night long...and he feels a little twinge of apprehension.

It doesn't happen all too often these days; but now and then the fear he keeps carefully buried at the back of his memories creeps to the surface. Like now, when everything looks dream-perfect and he hears Rage's confident steps down the hall.

Images of another picnic flash through his mind, although he could swear they don't belong to his past.

"Happy anniversary," he says, trying not to betray his nervousness.

Rage stops in his stride.

"I thought we could have a not-so-quiet night in," JT whispers, not softly enough for seduction, while Rage looks around in silence.

"Just the two of us." He will not lower his gaze.

Against their unspoken rules, Rage's mask is still on. "Or better yet," he finally replies, his voice carefully devoid of emotion, "we could go out."

JT stops breathing.

Rage moves toward him, slowly. "To Babylon." JT waits, while every muscle of his body locks shut. "There's a new trick I'd like to try..."

He's already half-way out of the room when Rage grabs hold of him, using words like "Wait" and "Listen", or perhaps "Trust me."

Then, it's a whirlwind of movement and color, a cascade of voices that don't belong to either of them or anyone they know, and a flight through a sky JT has never seen before.

***

"Babylon indeed," is all JT can say, when everything is finally still.

"600 B.C." Rage shrugs. "Circa."

They're lying on grass as green as emeralds, among flowers so strange and rare they make golden gardenias look like common daisies. Dates, figs and pomegranates seem to have fallen to their side, on arrival, but JT knows better.

"So, the Hanging Gardens were real." He unties Rage's mask and touches him gently, letting him rest: time travel can exhaust also the most virile of super-heroes.

"And so were the hung aurochs." Rage points at the impressive animals that graze on one of the terraces, next to lions and dragons. Down below, the Ishtar Gate, and temples and palaces and a whole new, ancient world that makes JT reach for pencil and paper that are not there.

But Rage is looking at him, and JT knows, without a shadow of a doubt at last, that he won't be afraid of memories anymore.

He blinks slowly, glancing down at his golden ring and back into Rage's eyes: "What about their legendary orgies?"

"I didn't have time to find out." Rage hesitates a second or two. "But if you want to, we could stay the weekend."

JT smiles and nods, leaning towards his husband. "Blond and blue-eyed as I am, they'll probably revere me like a god."

They kiss until dusk and Babylon starts to glow with the fluttering light of a thousand candles.

 

**Icarus**

Some feathers were translucent, shed by bird-like creatures only he and Rage and a handful of other time travellers knew had used fly, once upon a time. Others, that came from atolls in the Pacific Ocean, hidden and revealed according to the sea's whim, reflected the iridescence of light: saturated in yellows and a thousand variations of mother of pearl during daytime; a rainbow of blues at night.

But JT had insisted on having more humble, recognizable samples, too, from the soft whiteness of the goose, to the geometric spread of the fantail, to the common browns of the tui and the sparrow. Whether birds of paradise or American peacocks ("Those are in your honor," he'd told Rage), JT had painstakingly arranged his collection by color and by strength, to form a pair of wings that arched above his head and ran like waterfall behind his naked back, just touching the ground.

"I hope they'll stay in place," he said anxiously for the third or fourth time, checking the plumage over his shoulder, surprised by its lightness.

Rage stopped circling him, at last. "Don't worry. My jiz is the most powerful glue known to man; not even the sun can melt it."

JT rolled his eyes but finally relaxed. "I take you're not wearing a costume for the party." He cautiously lifted each shoulder blade in turn, smiling with satisfaction as the wings spread out.

"The advantage of being a super-hero," Rage shrugged. He did one more reflective tour around JT, nodded at the tight, white shorts he'd personally selected ("They match the doves' feathers nicely."), then added: "Do you want to test drive those before we go and dazzle Gayopolis?"

It was already twilight over the Mansion, but when Rage guided JT up to the sky holding his hand, they found the sun was just behind the horizon.

"It's like watching a sunrise at sunset," JT said, once again amazed at the beauty of things and the colors he could see when flying with Rage.

They hovered mid-air a while, making out the grounds of their home and the glimmer of the city bathed in the pre-evening light in the distance.

Then, holding tightly onto Rage's arm, JT flapped his wings.

There was a gentle whoosh, a shy ripple through the evening silence: enough to make JT's heart beat faster. Only a couple of feathers fell off his back and both he and Rage followed their slow descent to Earth as far the eye could see.

"Again," Rage told him, and JT did as he was told, less hesitant this time.

"Once more."

Now they were flying higher with every cut of JT's wings through the air.

Another whoosh.

"Keep going," Rage ordered, a new tightness in his voice.

JT looked at him and wondered when he'd let go of his hand.

"I guess I'm a super-hero too, now," he laughed, not quite afraid, but glad that Rage was only a short fall away, just in case. He flapped faster, and when he did he saw the tips of his feathers sparkle with the orange reflection of the sun.

"I guess you are," replied Rage.

He joined JT's side and ran his hands over the full length of the wings. Then, together, they flew a little higher.


End file.
